So, now what?
by GeniusInDisguise
Summary: Every time I watch the Breakfast Club, my mind explodes with ideas about what happens the following week. Starting with Allyson and Andrew since they're my favorite, but possibly some chapters exclusively about the others. Rated K just to be safe. I'm still not sure about theses ratings. If you think it's an inappropriate rating please let me know! Thanks, enjoy! CHAPTER 2 IS UP!
1. Allison

Allison sat, head in hand, in the midst of the mind-numbing monotony. Forgetting where she was. Forgetting _who_ she was. There was nothing but the sound of the blood rushing in her ears. Dimly, she was aware of the noise and action that surrounded her, but the glaze over her eyes was impenetrable. At first the others were taken aback when she fell in to this state. The kinder being shocked and concerned, and the rest mocking her outright.

"Anybody home?" They'd ask in singsong sarcasm, someone waving a hand in front of her face. "Look, she's gone catatonic!" They would poke her with their pencils and rattle her desk, trying to shake her out of it. _They're not real. Just pretend they're not real._ She whispered in her mind, outwardly, seeming as though she could neither see, nor hear them.

By now, after three years of this kind of behavior, the bullies had grown bored with a victim who never gave them the validation they sought, and so, left her alone. It was exactly as she wanted. Sometimes it was all just too much. She couldn't understand how the others could handle the whirlwind of chaos that was everyday life. How people could live their entire life, just skimming the surface, not wondering why or caring how. For her it was different. She felt everything. To her, the world was a dancing painting, an intense symphony. And, sometimes, when the colors and music would swell to the breaking point, when life became too loud, too harsh, she would simply remove herself. Pitch headfirst into these self-induced trances that left the other students so bewildered.

Today was one of those days. After everything that had happened the weekend before, she couldn't be sure that anything was real. She had the vague feeling that she had been dreaming her entire life. In the past, such a thought comforted her. The idea that all the loneliness, the ugliness was just a fleeting illusion appealed to her. Never, until this gray Monday morning, had she ever wanted it to be real. Never had she been so afraid to wake up.

His face appeared in her mind. His serious, searching blue eyes that looked at her in a way no one had ever bothered to. _Who are you…really?_ She asked the image in her mind's eye. _Are you really that boy everyone thinks they know, or did I just make you up? Are you my imaginary friend?_ The thought stung, but it had to be true. There was simply no other explanation. He didn't reach down inside her to find the source of her pain. He didn't stay and sit with her after she repeatedly insulted him in a terrified attempt to keep him way. He didn't kiss her. The blue sweatshirt she found in her room on Sunday morning was not the one he had given her. It didn't smell like him. _It's because you're not real. I mean, there is a boy who walks and talks like you somewhere in this school but he's not you. He can't see me. No one can. That's why I made you up, didn't I? _

The clanging of the bell announcing the end of first period jarred her from her reverie. With a shudder that had nothing to do with the cool, spring morning, she gathered up her belongings and slipped from the room in that forgetable fashion that she had so mastered.

Once in the hallway, she weaved through the throng of students, head down, clutching her notebook as though it could shield her from the world. With a sickening churning of her insides, she spotted him almost instantly. He always seemed to be wearing blue. Maybe it was just her imagination, but she could not seem to picture him in any other color. He hadn't seen her yet. Surrounded by friends, he rummaged through his locker laughing at the animated story his companion was telling. Last Friday, he was the furthest thing from her mind. She had never observed him in his element before, but now she was seeing just how innocent he really was. Everything must be so simple for him. To be so naturally good at something that other people admired must have made life so easy. A varsity letterman with the build of a Greek athlete and smile of a Labrador retriever. And just as she was about to smile, in spite of herself, he was approached by Missy Nicolson, senior cheerleader.

Allison's face still twisted into a half grin, but this time with a different emotion behind it. She knew better, didn't she? _I mean, Andrew is a god, and I am a ghost_. Whatever she thought had passed between them during Saturday detention was nothing but her imagination. She turned and began to walk, stiffly, in the opposite direction, biting her lip and burning with shame. Her loose grip on reality was really starting to scare her. _Thank god, _she thought, _thank god I didn't approach him. Thank god I know how to disappear._ As she bolted for the girls' bathroom she tried to erase the image of Missy's pretty smile and her hand on his arm…but it was not use. Silently, she raged with jealousy.

The rest of the day was spent like this. Ducking into empty classrooms, taking the long way around, all to ensure that he wouldn't see her. She liked the fantasy she had created about Saturday. The way they challenged each other. How, not only had he broken down her walls, but she, his. She remembered, as though it had actually happened, the way he looked at her, with all the hair pulled back from her face. Like he had never seen her before. When she sat perfectly still, she could feel his hands on her shoulders. The way one had slid up to the back of her neck and the other to her waist. It was a memory she never wanted to lose – even if it was a false one, she clung to it. That's why she went to such lengths to avoid him.

It was understood that in crossing paths, he would treat her like everyone did: like a piece of furniture. Knowing she could not bear the disappointment that came with proof, she did what she did best. Hid from the real world, and replaced it with one of her own design. A world where the Andrews loved the Allisons and held their hands and touched their souls.

As the end of the day drew near, Allison decided that sixth period geometry was not worth enduring, and instead headed to her favorite on-campus hideaway. There, in a small nook behind the gym, obscured by discarded broken bleachers and an old dumpster she scribbled away in her sketchbook, finally allowing her mind to feel free. It wasn't until she was adding the finishing touches to her work that she realized with a sting that she had drawn Andrew's likeness. Given the limitations of her skill, it looked remarkably like him, his short, yet somehow still untidy, hair and that smile. Of course that smile. She hurled the book into the dumpster in frustration. It was no use.

"You're never going to leave me alone, are you?" She grumbled, not realizing that she was speaking aloud.

"Well I…do you want me to?"

Allison froze, unwilling to look around for the source of the question. Elaborate as her fantasies may have been, she was sure they had never spoken back unless she decided so.

"Well that's it then, I'm officially crazy." She whispered to her lap. Then came a soft, Andrew-like laugh.

"You're not crazy, Ally, just...lost." With another nervous laugh, "not to say I'm any less lost than you." Finally she dared look up, and there he was, blocking out the sun like some great statue. "I've been looking for you everywhere. Is this where you've been hiding?" Her heart gave a great jolt as though it had been shocked suddenly back to life. _I'm not hallucinating. It's really you, isn't it?_

"Not all day," She murmured looking back down at her hands again.

"Do you really want me to leave you alone?" There was a vulnerability in his voice that brought her near to tears. _Do you really care? _She managed to keep that thought to herself.

"It's not that, I just…" She could see no other way around it, except to tell the truth. She had to trust that, by now, he would know better than to judge her. "I just wasn't sure what was going to happen when we saw each other today." He shook his head, his expression dangerously nearing condescension.

"Ally have you run into Bender at all today?" Startled, and a bit put out by the sudden change of subject, Allison mutely shook her head. "Claire? Have you talked to Claire?" Again, she swayed her head from side to side. "Well you must've have been hiding here all day or else you would have heard something about the stir they're causing."

"The stir? What do you mean?" She asked although she already knew the answer. Claire and John had done what she and Andrew apparently could not. They had found the courage within themselves, and the connection within each other. They had broken the mold, gossip and scandal be damned.

"Mrs. Hanson and the other teachers are having a meltdown. It's really hilarious, they're trying to get Claire into counseling, saying it must be some trauma at home that's causing her to lash out. Bender's got to watch his back though. You know Claire's ex, Doug McArthur?" _Who doesn't?_ She thought bitterly. Andrew, clearly, had no idea how Doug had been one of Allison's worst tormenters.

"Only by reputation," She lied.

"Well he's losing his mind! It's crazy, he keeps saying that he and a bunch of the guys are just waiting to catch Bender alone." He ran a hand through his sandy hair. "…Allison?" Her name rode from his lips astride a heavy sigh.

"Andrew?" It was with the tiniest, lightest voice that she answered. So quiet, in fact, that if Andrew had not seen her lips move, he would have thought she had stayed silent.

"Do you trust me?" He suddenly blushed and shook his head. "I mean, would you wouldn't be embarrassed by me?" Allison choked on her laughter. Was _he _really asking _her_ this? Andrew Clarke really cared about her opinion. It was everything she'd wanted and was too afraid to believe she deserved. Why was it so hard to accept? In a tone that sounded strange and foreign to her, she said,

"And what if I said yes, you do embarrass me?" His jaw set, he looked away and looked back again. Those serious blue eyes raking her face for answers.

"You'd be lying." He answered softly. Though unable to explain way, this response set ablaze a fiery frustration in Allison that pulled her to her feet. She threw her head back and laughed.

"Oh you know me so well, huh?" she barked. "You think just because I'm a lowly social outcast that being seen with the great Andrew Clarke would be some kind of honor? Well, let me tell you-" But he cut her off.

"Why are you pushing me away again? You told me how lonely you are. I do know you better that you think! All your crazy behavior may scare some people away, but I've seen the real you and you want it as bad as me!" And in an act of defiant passion that was characteristically un-Andrew-like, he pulled her into a rough kiss that left her not only speechless but breathless on top. "No more games." He whispered into her hair. "No more walls to keep me out. I just don't think I can take it." And as he squeezed her, Allison let out light, mousey squeak. A habit she'd had since childhood, one she had always been embarrassed of. But today, it didn't matter. _Squeak away, Allison! He loves you._ He pulled back enough to look at her, grinning. "You know you can't play those tricks on me anymore. You're the one who said I do everything everyone tells me, right? Well, I plan to change that. And the first step is ignoring you when you say you don't want me."

She giggled. Something inside her was swelling like a balloon. Her fingers and toes had begun to tingle and her stomach felt like she had swallowed a bag of feathers. All in all it was a bit nauseating. But still, somehow, she liked it.

"C'mon," he said, "I don't have practice until four. Let me walk you home." And with those simple words, Allison knew it was too good to last. The feathers in her stomach had turned to bowling balls. If Ted were to see her with a boy, she'd pay for it. Part of her just wanted to slip right out of Andrew's arms and into one of her protective trances. She didn't want to be here. She didn't want to think those thoughts.

On Saturday, everyone had confessed about their miserable home lives. The pressure on Andrew and Brian from their parents to be perfect in their own ways. The way Claire's mother and father used her as a pawn in their petty wars against each other. And John Bender. Allison felt that he might have understood better than anyone, what with his drunk, cruel father that left scars on his only son. But she didn't have the nerve to be honest then, and she still didn't here in the warmth of Andrew's embrace. He was watching her as, mentally, she began to withdraw, eyes becoming glassy.

"Where are you going?" He asked. "Was it something I said?" This broke her from the daze she was in and this time, she kiss him. More gently, but longer and sweeter.

"I'll be fine on my own tonight." She said with forced cheerfulness. "Do you want to meet up before first period tomorrow?" For a long time he didn't answer.

"Allison?" He sounded almost like an accusatory parent, and she could help but smile again. "Are you sure?" With a playful peck on the lips, she pulled away from him.

"Have fun at practice ok?" And with a wink, she was gone.


	2. Andrew

As Andrew watched her small frame dart through the basketball courts and make a left on Jackson Ave., he was just beginning to realize the full scope of what he was getting himself into. This girl was going to be much different from all the others. Allison was not a happy, simple girl that could be won over by flowers and compliments. She was half heartbreak, half mystery and Andrew felt himself inexplicably drawn to her. Maybe, he thought, it was because she was the first person to ever tell him there was something wrong with him.

He recalled when the very same idea first crossed his mind. It was not that Andrew had always arrogantly thought he was perfect. It was just that life was simple and the world was easy to please. Of course that was true, until about six months before the detention and before Allison.

Doug McArthur was one of those "friends" that a person never really wants, but neither can they seem to get rid of. Andrew and Doug had existed in this state since junior high basketball and Andrew had never questioned it. It was the first week of senior year, and the idea of being the oldest in the school – and a varsity letterman, at that – had swelled Doug's ego to an alarming size. Andrew, however, barely paid attention when Doug would bully some geek or underclassmen. In fact, there was really not much that Andrew did notice, aside from the game. He liked it that way. No confusion, no ugly moral dilemmas. It was just easier to go along with what people like coach Matheson always said about Doug,

"That boy's just too damn powerful an athlete, little shit forgets when he's not on the matt!" So why, now, after all these years did Andrew suddenly find Doug's antics grating and tiresome? Sitting in the cafeteria that day in September, Doug and the others were engaged in some lively conversation that Andrew just had no interest in. He wasn't even interested in finishing his second P.B. and J. With his chin resting in one hand, he sat there, staring out in to space. Not really even thinking about anything in particular, just wholly disinterested in making bets on which of the freshmen cheerleaders was going loose her cherry first. He found the whole thing degrading. Although he had no sister of his own, he couldn't help but want to give guys like Doug good, solid beating for talking about young girls that way. _What the hell? Since when do I care?_ He asked himself in disgust.

"I know, I know!" Andrew was pulled from his thoughts with a sharp jab to the ribs. "Andy boy loves his brunettes. You'd go for the little one with braids, wouldn't you?" With an indulgent sigh, Andrew turned and looked at the small group of girls gossiping two tables down. The one Doug was pointing at was rather pretty, he thought, but so…so….flat. So vacant. Why was everything so dissatisfying? It was really starting to get to him. All he wanted was to just be simply pleased with everything like he always had been.

"Yeah, pretty cute." He muttered. It felt as though something was rushing in his blood stream, to the tips of his fingers and toes, which made him want to just start breaking things. "Hey guys, I gotta…take a leak." And with that lame excuse, he hurried himself away from the now strange faces of the boys he once thought of as brothers.

During the months that followed, Andrew was a mess. Still, he had to marvel at how well he was hiding the fact. Since there was not a single person he could even imagine sharing his change of heart with, the only option was to deny it. Life had begun to have a bitter taste to it, and he found himself willing to try almost anything to reach the high he used to get to by simply being a jock. He realized with a pang of shame as he watched Allison disappear around the distant corner, that that was exactly why he had finally begun to take part in Doug's bullying.

For a while, he thought it was working. It was an exhibition of his strength to overpower another person, and an outlet for his frustrations to torment them. He felt a sick sort of rush when Doug dared him to drop an upside down pop can in the backpack of pale, pock-faced Henrietta Toski so it looked like she was peeing herself all the way down the hall. But right in the middle of his explosion of laughter, a thought crept into his head, like a little worm. Henrietta was one of the biggest brains in the school. _I wonder how many hours of schoolwork I just ruined?_ Quickly, he banished the thought.

It wasn't until the past Saturday that Andrew was even came close to be willing to admit just how unhappy he was. The other's had all made an impression on him, and he was grateful. But in a way it also depressed him. What difference could he have made in their lives? He thought, with a touch of wry humor, that he must have the weakest personality out of anyone he's ever met.

Bender rubbed him the wrong way most of the time, but even he knew who he was and had no fear. Andrew couldn't help but respect him, in lieu of what he'd learned about his home life. Bryan made them all look like a bunch of gorillas with his intelligence, not just academically, but with emotional intelligence as well. Andrew had the feeling that they'd all be working for Brian one day, and the idea didn't bother him in the least. Even Claire had fought back. And, unlike Andrew, had refused to be reeled in by Doug McArthur and his metaphorical fishhooks. But Allison…He couldn't define her, or explain her. When he thought of her, there was foreign aching in his heart that confused him. Never had he felt so terribly sad for the plight of another, and at the same time had never been so excited by their touch. Leaning against the back wall of the gym, he absentmindedly brushed his lips. _Ally, what have you don't to me?_ The question made him laugh a little.

Mostly because he was unsure of what else to do, he shouldered his backpack and was about turn and head to the locker room when a thought struck him. _What was that she threw into the dumpster? _Feeling a just a little creepy, he leaned over side and scooped up her red notebook. Luckily, there was mostly plant waste from the school landscapers in there, and it wasn't too dirty. After brushing it off, he paused, taking a moment to simply study the cover. It was worn and fading and the corners were crumpled and dog-eared. There was a whole mess of confused scribbles and doodles, faces, disembodied eyes, and phrases that must have made sense to Allison, if no one else.

"ALLISON REYNOLDS" was written on the first page in elaborate, loopy cursive. And in smaller writing "No one ever wonders what a ghost is thinking. They all just run away." He traced the words with his index finger. _Well that's a little dramatic, isn't it? _He thought. _But that's just Ally. Even the blandest and most boring things are poetic to her._ He flipped the page.On the other side, was an untidily written journal entry dated last July. Her small, shaky penmanship was just above a scrawl, but with patience, Andrew slowly sorted it out. It read:

_I don't know why I decided to write it all down. Maybe just as proof that it actually happened. My life, I mean. Proof so someone other than my rotten mother and my evil stepfather will actually know I existed. Though whether or not mom knows I'm still here is questionable. She certainly doesn't care. I wish Ted felt that way. I'm sorry to just complain but I swear there's nowhere else for me to say this. Last night Ted came into my room again. Drunk, of course. He told me to not even bother moving or speaking. Your mom's away at that convention. No one's going to believe you anyway, you little slut. Stop pretending like you don't like it. My skin is crawling like it's covered in bugs. I wonder if I'll ever feel clean again. I hate him like I've never hated anyone._

Andrew slammed the book shut. He stood, perfectly still, for a moment processing what he had just read. He flipped it open again and reread the last few sentences. His first thought was, _now it all makes sense! _This is the reason why she is so neurotic and so withdrawn. He realized his heart was pounding like he had just run a mile. His mouth was dry. That tingling feeling he felt in his extremities when he was angry had returned. Breathing hard, he felt like a caged animal.

"Hey, Andy!" He must have practically jumped out of his skin because Doug was laughing as he approached him. "What did you see a ghost or something?" He asked, still chortling. Andrew took a long, deep breath, steadying himself and slipped Allison's journal into his backpack.

"Maybe." He whispered without smiling. Doug paused, giving him that blank look that he got when faced with anything confusing or complicated. He shook off like water.

"C'mon buddy, you're late for practice." Doug clasped a strong hand rather forcefully onto Andrew's shoulder in a way that was more threatening than affectionate. He began to steer them back towards the gym entrance. "Hey, I need your help with something after practice."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"I've already got Pete and Curtis in on it: we're gonna screw up Bender for good this time. Nasty little punk freak as probably got Claire pumped full of drugs or something." As they entered the locker rooms and began to dress for practice, Andrew remained silent while Doug continued to rant about all the reasons he hated John Bender and all the ways he was going to hurt him. In his heart, Andrew knew what the right thing to do was. He knew he should tell Doug to get over it. Get a life. That he had seen the way Claire looked at Bender, and he knew what she sacrificed to be with him. Doug didn't stand a chance at winning her back – not in a million years.

_I don't think I'm as brave as her. _He thought, dejectedly. He cast a sweeping look around the locker rooms. He had been pals with these guys since grade school. They won championships together. They had is back through the years. They had shaped and sculpted his identity for him. _I really don't know if I can give it all up._ He thought again of Allison. He closed his eyes and pictured that look of burning intensity that she laid upon him. _We spoke for the first time three days ago and she already understands me better then all of you. _

Suddenly, he slammed his locker open, cutting Doug's rant short. Andrew laughed a little as he began to put his street clothes back on, zipping up his hoodie and tying his sneakers with shaking fingers. The boy who was supposed to be his "best friend" had not even noticed or cared that he wasn't listening. His mind had gone white with determination. _Either live forever trapped in this lie or chase after the only thing that ever made me feel real, flawed, and free. _

"What the hell are you doing?" Doug demanded, looking offended. Andrew smiled at him as he shouldered his pack and secured the lock on his locker. He felt giddy and at the same time, a little nauseous.

"Let it go, Doug." He reached out, tentatively, and patted him on the back. "We've been friends for….what? Seven years? So I'll be straight with you: you lost Claire because you don't give even the smallest shit about what anyone else wants. You spend your life trying to control everyone around you because you're either too scared or too damn stupid to really try to understand them." Doug stared at him in blank shock. Andrew could hardly believe these words were even coming out of his mouth. He barely recognized his own voice. "For once in your life, you could just let it go. You don't always have to be the asshole." Andrew began to turn for the door when Doug hit him hard, right between the shoulder blades. His face had gone red and he was visibly shaking with rage. The others had stopped what they were doing and began to not-so-subtly listen in.

"Who the hell do you think you are, Clarke? I ought to kick your ass for saying that shit! What the hell's come over you?" Without really knowing why, Andrew began to laugh as he backed away from Doug. He placed one hand on the door.

"What's come over me?" He shook his head, gathering his courage. "I'm in love with Allison Reynolds." And then he left, without looking back.


End file.
